


Impulse Power

by vega_voices



Series: Come Rain, Come Shine [44]
Category: Murphy Brown (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 12:48:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16619279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: Her parents had failed to prepare her for many things, but parenting itself was the biggest. Well, that and how to actually exist within a healthy, loving relationship.





	Impulse Power

**Title:** Impulse Power  
**Author:** vegawriters  
**Fandom:** Murphy Brown  
**Series:** Come Rain, Come Shine  
**Pairing:** Murphy Brown/Peter Hunt  
**Rating:** M  
**Timeframe:** Mid-season 8  
**A/N:** I told you I was fucking with canon. Not enough to throw everything off kilter but enough that in this universe, the (spoiler) John Larroquette scene in season 11 didn’t happen. ;)  
**Disclaimer:** So, I think it should be noted that Warner Bros owns all of this. Diane is God, Candice is the queen, and I just really want to write the novels about the show. Okay, guys?

 **Summary:** _Her parents had failed to prepare her for many things, but parenting itself was the biggest. Well, that and how to actually exist within a healthy, loving relationship._

Murphy wanted to say there were a million deep and fascinating reasons she’d bought the townhouse. She wanted to say she’d loved the blue on the walls, the gallery living room with the arched ceilings, the way the second and third floor climbed up and up. Once, she understood, it had been as boxy and uninviting as so many other townhomes of its style, turned into apartments that no one could afford. The previous owners had been the miracle workers, tearing out rooms, arching the doorways. But the truth was, she’d benefited from a crappy economy and a contract on her 30th birthday that put most of the people in her business to shame. Impulse led to the grandeur she now enjoyed.

Still, it had taken until her 41st birthday for her to truly appreciate the curve of the staircase, the way the sun hit the windows in the hallway, casting rainbows toward the stairs, how the fireplace in the bedroom so perfectly matched the living room, a design of old colonial architecture. She didn’t need to turn on the heat to keep warm in the winter - if of course she wanted to chop wood. But her favorite thing was the window seat next to the bed. Looking down into her small garden - smaller than most as the house had been added to over the years before she bought it, her views were of trees and climbing vines and the graveyard of plants she’d long since given up caring for herself. And just like had Eldin kept up the paint, her gardener did the hard work of keeping alive anything she herself dared touch.

She loved this perch. She’d written some of her best stories here, penned some of her more thoughtful letters to Peter, her goodbye to Jerry, her angry rants to Jake. She’d written her hopes and dreams for Avery, her spiraling script racing across the page trying to keep up with her thoughts as she watched the child she’d never expected to love like she did grow into a person she was only more proud of day after day.

Her parents had failed to prepare her for many things, but parenting itself was the biggest. Well, that and how to actually exist within a healthy, loving relationship. The last two years, she’d kept waiting for some mythical shoe to drop, had waited for some dramatic destruction to set everything off and when it hadn’t, when she hadn’t found a reason to throw Peter out on his ass like her mother so often had her father, she’d stopped talking. It wasn’t his fault, after all, that she’d lost the baby. Someday, she’d accept it wasn’t her fault either. But now, they were back together, focused. Trying. And it was harder than she expected because she expected the drama, not the hard work of learning to communicate again with the man she adored.

The man she loved. It was okay to admit it. To speak it. At times, she still felt funny saying it, wondered if by speaking it to existence she dared ruin everything. After all, the other men in her life she’d loved, emotion seemed only to drive them away.

But near her in the bed, Peter snored lightly, the blankets up over his shoulder, covering his mostly naked frame. Murphy watched him, which felt unholy and creepy yet gently romantic all at the same time and figured she needed to get up, check on Avery, and go make a cup of tea. 3 AM was her weakness, the time when her brain prodded her to wakefulness. When lingering dreams of repressed memories came back to haunt her psyche. Since Avery came along, they almost always centered on the same nightmares she knew haunted Peter - children running from war, from bombs often manufactured by the United States. The ethical questions were never more confusing than when bullets made in China flew from American guns while bullets made in Ohio pummeled from those of the enemy. Wartime was never just about territory or economic systems or grown men comparing the size of their dicks. Someday, they would be able to report that war was, in the end, about symbolism and humans would never fight harder than they did to protect a symbol.

How soon before war pulled Peter from her bed again?

From their bed?

Were they ready for that step? No. Not yet. Not after the last few months. Still, she wore the ring he’d given her. Under the fear, she still knew that this man was the one she wanted to spend her life with.

With a sigh, she shifted in the window seat, looking back out at the dark garden. The leather bound journal in her hands was thick with the letters she’d written when Peter was out of the country, when the relationship threads had all but snapped. She needed to give this to him, to be as open and vulnerable as he’d always been with her.

But what if he left again? What if she pushed him away again?

Well, the little voice in the back of her head lectured, she was completely in control of who she pushed away, wasn’t she?

Yeah, she needed some tea.

Moving quietly, Murphy pulled herself from the window seat and slipped her robe over her shoulders as she moved through the room. At the last second though, a hand caught her arm, an arm slid around her waist, pulling her back into a solid body. She groaned and pressed back into Peter, reveling in how his hand moved up inside her t-shirt, how gentle his fingers were against her skin.

“There’s a better way to beat 3AM insomnia than wandering downstairs for tea,” he whispered.

“Oh?” Murphy grinned and turned in his arms. “I thought you were too tired after chasing Avery around all day.”

He laughed and pressed their hips together before walking them back toward the bed. “I slept.”

***

Peter’s hand was on Murphy’s breast, stroking her through the fabric of her shirt, his mouth on her neck, when the words he dreaded the most came from behind them.

“Mommy? I can’t sleep.”

They both groaned. Peter turned around and sat up, willing his body under control. His little boy stood in the bedroom doorway, a toy in one hand, his blankie in the other. Peter sighed crawled off the bed to kneel down to Avery’s level, wanting to be angry but five months away from his son only made every moment precious. Even this rather frustrating one. He looked back over his shoulder at Murphy, who was smirking, picked Avery up, and walked right back up to his bedroom where he deposited the child on his bed.

“Why can’t you sleep, buddy? Are you feeling okay?” Avery had been on his antibiotics for two days now and he was finally turning back into a human child, but he was still cranky and still a bit feverish. It wasn’t surprising he wasn’t sleeping.

Avery kicked his legs. “When you gonna leave again?”

Suddenly, the frustration of being interrupted with Murphy was gone. Peter settled next to Avery on the bed and put his arm around him. “You were pretty scared when your mom and I were having that fight, huh?”

Avery nodded.

“So here’s the deal, kiddo.” Peter took a deep breath. “I will be going away again. Part of the problem when your mom and I had that fight was that I wasn’t able to be here to work it out. I had to go to all these far away places and I had to stay for a really long time.”

“So you could tell da stories?”

Peter ran his hand through Avery’s hair. “Yep. So I could tell the stories. And I can’t promise that I won’t be gone for a really long time again. It’s what my job is. Just like your mom has to go away sometimes, I have to go away too. But, I promise you that whenever I’m gone away, all I can think about is you and your mom. And when I’m home, I’m here with you guys, okay?”

Avery rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did my other daddy leave?”

Well. Great. His kid was facing anxiety and abandonment issues. Peter hugged Avery close. “You know what, I’ll be honest with you, I don’t know. But I know that your mom and Jake, they made the best decisions they could for you. So you could be happy.”

Avery nodded and hugged his lobster close.

“Your other daddy, he loves you too. He just loves you from far far away. But that’s okay, because if he was closer, maybe I wouldn’t have met your mommy. And I wouldn’t have met you. And you and your mommy, you’re the best things that ever happened to me.”

Avery raised his head. “Really?”

Peter smiled and tapped his nose. “Really.” Avery grinned. “Okay, buddy.” Peter stood up and pulled back the rocket ship covers on the bed. “Climb on in. It’s bedtime.”

“Are you an mommy goin to bed too?”

Peter fought back a laugh. “Yep, we are, buddy.”

“Okay,” Avery yawned.

Peter stepped out into the hall, closing the nursery door behind him. Murphy leaned against the wall, tears in her eyes. “What?” He whispered, not wanting to disturb the roving beast. She shushed him and led him down the hall into the bedroom. Inside, she turned and wrapped her arms around him. “What?” Peter asked again, stroking his finger down her cheek.

“You’ve always been so good with him,” she sighed. “You know how to answer those questions.”

“The truth, I’ve discovered, usually works.”

“Hmmm, the truth …” Murphy shook her head. “I’ll see what song you’re singing about truth after you’ve been subjected to an afternoon of Barney.”

“Oh. Damn. I’ve blocked that annoying creature out. Though, it might be better than Elmo ...”

Murphy laughed and slid her arms up around his neck. “Peter?”

“Yes?” He pulled her even closer.

“Shut up.”

Peter laughed and pushed her back to the bed, tugging at her t-shirt as he did so. She helped him shrug it off, grinning when it got tangled in her hair. They tumbled onto the sheets, and he reveled in skin against skin, how she arched into his hands, how she laughed as he traced his fingers across her body.

She was still bleeding, and the scent of arousal mixed with the iron tinge of blood. He slid his hand between her thighs, meeting her eyes. “You okay with this tonight?”

She nodded. “I was fine last night, I’m fine tonight. Anyway, it’s almost done …”

He didn’t miss the look in her eyes and moved his hand back to her stomach. “Hey … talk to me.”

A deep sigh escaped her. “It still hurts sometimes. Not physically.” She traced his wrist, moving her fingers up his arm. “I’m almost fifty.”

“And you wear it well,” he smiled before dipping his lips to tug on her nipple. She groaned. “I didn’t think I was falling for some flighty twenty-something,” Peter teased. “I mean, you’re way too good in bed for that.”

That made her laugh, which was his entire point.

He bent to kiss her, relishing how her hand tangled in his hair, how her arms wrapped around his neck. Moving over her, he allowed himself the joy of making out, of petting, of exploring her body in ways he hadn’t in months. Even last night had been more about just connecting again physically rather than being completely together. He’d missed how her toes curled when he kissed behind her knee, how her back arched when he nibbled her collarbone.

Before things got too heated, she nudged him off of her and disappeared into the bathroom. Peter took a breath and stood up, arranging the bed and spreading a towel out just to catch any of the mess. It was almost four AM. Hopefully, Avery would let them sleep in.

Murphy emerged a moment later, dressed only in her t-shirt. He groaned and pulled her to him, taking the condom she handed over. “I love you,” he murmured.

“You too …” she said, wrapping her arms around him. They fell back onto the bed, shedding what few clothes they had left.

***

At seven o’clock, Murphy opened one eye to see her son pushing the door open and she thanked whatever part of her brain had been smart enough to suggest she and Peter slide back into pjs after they’d exhausted each other. Murphy patted the bed and helped Avery climb up between them and they both fell right back asleep again. She woke three hours later to find Peter had slipped from bed and Avery had rolled so that his foot was in her face. Groaning, she kissed his little toes and sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

Avery’s flush was finally gone. A gentle hand to his forehead told her the fever had stopped lingering. Well. Monday he was back to school. She tucked the blankets around him and slipped out of bed, reaching for her robe. The scent of coffee drew her down the stairs where she found Peter on the couch, going through his own notes. He greeted her with a smile and reached out his hand to pull her close.

“I’ve got morning breath,” she teased.

“I don’t care,” he taunted before bringing her to his lap for a kiss.

“Making up for lost time?” She said, grinning, as they broke apart.

“What do you think?”

Oh it felt good to play like this again, to be with him again. Since he’d walked back in the door the other night, things just felt better. A part of her nagged at her, reminding her she didn’t need a man to be complete. She didn’t need a man to shake the depression of a breakup. But the truth was, as she’d come to understand over the past two years, she did need this man. She needed how he touched her and how he smiled at her and how he challenged her to be a better reporter. She needed how he laughed and she needed the letters he sent and she needed the way his hands parted her thighs when he was kissing the inside of her legs. She needed his arm around her and how he told a story from the other side of the world and made it make sense to people who could barely be bothered to read a history book. She needed how he looked at her son, how he had never once balked on bonding with a little boy in need of a father, and she needed Avery to have his daddy home.

It wasn’t perfect. She was terrified it was going to fall apart. She didn’t trust herself, she didn’t trust the world, she didn’t trust assignments where bullets flew. But she trusted him. And if that was all she could bring to this, she’d start there. Because she felt effortless with him.

“What?” He asked.

“I’m just happy,” she admitted.

“Me too.” He kissed her again.

She had so many things to unload, so many questions in her head. But she was going to behave and try not to push everything right now. Right now they had to get used to being together again because she wasn’t sure when the road was going to take him away. His contract was almost up and she’d heard the rumors. CNN was probably going to win the bid.

“I’m going to go get coffee,” she said, kissing his cheek.

“Okay.” Peter reached for his notes. She glanced over to try and read the page and he glared at her.

“I’m going, I’m going,” she teased.

All she’d seen was Mogadishu. Hopefully that was copy and not his next assignment, but her instincts told her otherwise.

***

Peter had woken to a voicemail. A plum assignment. One he’d been hoping for most of his career. Of course it had to come now.

Logically, he knew this was what he and Murphy had to get used to all over again. What they had been used to up until about six months ago when pressure for the wedding destroyed everything. For two years they’d made it work. Letters and emails and phone calls and journals passed back and forth. But this was different.

He sighed and leaned back on the couch, pressing his fingers into his eyes. Three months with no contact. At least over the last five, he and Murphy had seen each other. It had been painful and distant, but there had been contact. This? Right now? Right after they’d finally worked things out? Yep, right now was exactly the time for this to be going down.

He’d been working this deal out for months. Finally the Somali Resistance had agreed to let him embed with the camp, but the deal was that he spend three months working on the story and then, only then, could he report out. No letters, no information. He was putting his life in their hands for three months and then they would put their lives in his. His reporting could wipe them all out or highlight exactly what they were fighting for. Two months ago, it had been the perfect solution to his broken heart. Now, he wanted to turn it down. Or at least push it back two weeks. He wasn’t ready to be on a plane next Wednesday. He wanted to take Avery to school and pick Murphy up after the show. He

“What’s in Mogadishu?”

Murphy’s voice caught him off guard and he opened his eyes and turned his head. She stood by the fireplace, the set of her shoulders telling him she’d already figured out he wouldn’t be in town for very long. His eyes followed the line of the mantle, the statue, the painting. Even now, two years later, he wondered how this place could be so cozy despite its grandeur. But the answer was the woman in front of him. This was her home, her safe space. It was comfortable because of her.

“An assignment …” he sighed and scooted over. “Come sit down.”

She didn’t move. “Already I don’t like the sound of this.”

Peter didn’t force the issue. “I have a chance to be embedded with the resistance in Somalia.”

She wasn’t a novice. “How embedded?”

“Three months. No outside contact.”

“I see.” She took a sip of her coffee. “When do you leave?”

“Wednesday.”

She nodded twice, her lips pressed into a thin line. Peter waited.

“What about Now and Tomorrow?”

“It’s a coup for the show, if it all works out.” Peter kept his gaze on her. If he moved too quickly, she’d scare like a rabbit. “I’ve got a series of pre-taped segments about the situation the show will be airing.”

Again, she nodded twice. “Let me get this straight,” she finally said. “You are going over to a place as war torn as we’ve seen in modern history and you’re embedding yourself, without contact, for three months.” She sucked in a breath. “If Avery hadn’t gotten sick, if you hadn’t known to come over, would you what, have left a letter for me as you ran out the door?”

“Murphy …”

“I need to know, Peter. Would we have been having this conversation anyway? Or would you have just let me find out about it on the news?”

It was a fair question and he took his time with his answer. Finally, he stood up and faced her, walking as close as her body language would allow. “It wasn’t a done deal until this morning when I got up. Anna called and left a message. I didn’t want to just tell you about it randomly because I wasn’t sure how it was going to work. And, I didn’t want to bring it up until I knew when it was going to happen. I wasn’t expecting to have to get on a plane on Wednesday, Murphy. You have to believe that.”

She didn’t look like she believed him. Peter also knew better than to push right now. Things were so tenuous.

“It’s the story of a lifetime.” Her voice was soft, accepting. “And I hate it.”

Peter held his breath.

“This sucks, Peter. It really does. Maybe we were right … maybe …”

“Maybe what, Murphy? We know how to handle this kind of situation. I travel. It’s what I do. It’s what you do. None of that was going to change - whether you were still pregnant or not, whether we were married or not. Our lives are what they are. Chasing the story.”

He waited. She breathed.

“I just wanted a few more days with you,” she said, finally. When she raised her head, there were tears in her eyes. “My heart broke when I lost the baby and then we … have been doing whatever we’ve been doing the last few months and I just wanted time to feel like we were back together again before you headed off. I mean, you won’t be here for the next few days. You’ll be in research and getting ready and …” she let out a breath. “I just had this going differently in my mind.”

“I did too …” Peter took her exhale as a chance to step closer. “Murphy …” He reached out, putting his hands on her arms. She looked into his eyes. “The truth is, we don’t know how life would be if you hadn’t lost the baby. But we’re here right now. And right now, I’ve got the chance for a story most people only dream of. I have to go.”

“I know you do,” she sighed. “And you know what?”

“What?”

“Part of the reason I fell for you is that you aren’t here in my hair all the time. Which is surprising as hell for me, for the record. But I like that we have independent lives. You are worth waiting for.”

“See,” he teased. “You do find it charming.”

“Shut up.” She reached out and put her hand on his chest. “I don’t like this. And when you get back, we still have things to work out.”

“I know.” He stroked her face.

“You’re lucky I was so miserable when we were … what were we exactly? Cause it wasn’t broken up but it wasn’t together.”

“We were being idiots.”

She grinned a bit. “Okay, yeah. You’ve got me there.” A long minute passed between them. “You have to tell Avery,” she said.

“I know.” It wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. Just a couple of months ago he’d sat on the steps, promising his son that he and his mother would work on things when he came back. Well, that much had been lived in to. But after putting Avery back to bed last night, he hadn’t wanted to leave for a while. He wanted Avery to have some stability. But Avery was the child of reporters, and this was the life they were choosing to live. “We’ll make it work, Murphy.”

“I know,” she let out a breath. “It’s just scary.”

“I know.” He leaned in and kissed her, his lips barely brushing hers.

“Go on,” she pushed at him. “You’ve got some research to take care of and I’m going to shower and check on Avery. I’ve got my own story to work on too.”

“Okay,” he said, feeling how shaky the ground was but knowing this was where they needed to start from. “Okay.”

She touched his chest and nudged him out of the way. Peter watched her disappear up the stairs, tea mug in hand. He’d been fooling himself that one weekend would fix everything. But at least she hadn’t melted down and thrown him out. It was something.

***

“Mommy?”

Murphy glanced up to see her son standing at the bottom of the stairs, clutching his lobster in his hands. She sighed and scooted over, patting the arm of the couch where she’d been sitting since Peter had kissed them both and hopped in the car with his EP for the trip to the airport. Avery climbed up onto the couch and leaned over, resting his head against her arm.

“You okay, honey?” She looked down at her son, who every day somehow looked more and more like the man who had just walked out the door and not his father.

“Why did Daddy go again?”

She sighed. “Cause it’s his job, baby.”

He looked up at her, his bright blue eyes wide. “Are you an daddy gon get married?”

That was a question she hadn’t been expecting. Murphy took a deep breath. “Do you want us to get married?”

“Yep!”

The enthusiasm made her smile. “Well, we’re talking about it a lot, okay? But right now, your daddy is going to be gone for a while. It’s just you and me again. Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah,” Avery grinned. “An when daddy comes home we can play more.”

“Yes, you can.” Murphy stood up and turned to the kitchen. “I hear Reena left food in the freezer for us. Let’s go see what’s there for dinner.”

Avery giggled and slid off the couch, trailing after her into the kitchen. He climbed up into his chair, settling on the booster seat, and she pulled the tupperware container out of the freezer. Soup and bread - the bread in the fridge. She could handle that.

“You know what’s funny, Avery?” Murphy said as she popped the cover on the container and put it in the microwave, following Reena’s exact instructions. “Your grandma Avery? She couldn’t cook either. She hated it. But all the women around her, they could. And they made her feel bad for it. But, we had someone like Reena who helped out sometimes. She made the best praline cookies. Most of the time, we had takeout. Just like you and me do.”

In her heart, Murphy knew this was what it was going to be forever - Peter home for just a few weeks at a time, frozen dinners, her and Avery figuring out how to cook the basics without setting the house on fire. Cycles repeated themselves, after all and even though she had broken free of what bound her mother, some things remained. Jake was absent. Peter would be gone more often than not. She had a choice before her: to accept this, to own it, to raise her child in this world that was hers, or to run from it and still raise him alone.

“I know it’s hard when Peter leaves,” she said as she put a small piece of bread on a plate for her son. “But he misses us as much as we miss him. And you know what, he shows you he loves you more than Papa Bill ever did for me.” She sighed. “But I’m sorry he has to leave so much.”

“It’s okay, Mommy.”

The microwave beeping distracted her from the flood of emotions. Murphy poured the soup into a bowl for Avery and a mug for her and settled at the table.

“He really loves you, you know.” Murphy said.

Avery’s response was to try and give his lobster a spoonful of soup. Murphy grinned and let the subject drop. Avery didn’t need her harping on the situation. He just needed to know that Peter loved him, and Peter was better at showing that than she could ever hope to imagine.

Outside the kitchen window, summer was in bloom and she made a mental note to thank Eldin for handling all of the scheduling for the gardener before passing it along to Reena. The Berneky's had taken on the housekeeper duties, if only because they were control freaks regarding who was in Avery’s space, and so that was easier at least. It amazed her how much more she appreciated the house now that she had Avery to explore it with. Until he’d come along, messing up her mess with his toys on the stairs and his finger paints on the kitchen cabinets, she’d had her silence, yes. She’d had the late night music blaring while she worked through some research for a story or her coffee with a good book or her hot cocoa while curled up in front of a documentary. She’d had game nights with Frank and parties with Lisa, but she’d never truly felt the impact of this place as a home until Avery’s bottles and sippy cups took up space where her wine glasses used to be. If she’d never had her baby, her life would still have been complete. But there was no possible way to imagine her life now without him.

Murphy took her empty mug to the sink and rinsed it - a task she was getting better at as time wore on. In the dishwasher was Peter’s favorite coffee mug.

Avery wasn’t the only one infiltrating her home. The last two and a half years had given way to a dresser for Peter in the closet, and more of his clothes hanging in the guest bedroom. The desk in the library was as covered in his notes as hers.

Two rather impulsive decisions had found home here, in this impulsive decision she’d made on her 30th birthday.

Maybe it was time to ask Peter to move in.

Well. First he had to get home from Somalia.

“Mommy? I’m full.”

She turned around and gathered the half-eaten soup from Avery, who climbed down from his chair and took his lobster to her. She closed the dishwasher and let him drag her into the backyard. He wanted to climb the tree, and she was here to help him.


End file.
